


Can't Sleep Love

by enbied



Category: Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: M/M, betaed by a few people bc i really wanted to make them read it lol, triles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbied/pseuds/enbied
Summary: Tristan is winding down, getting ready to sleep, but decides to take a walk down memory lane. Loosely based on this gif lmao imgur.com/a/JlSH3





	

Scrolling through their shared Hastygram account, Tristan noticed a video he'd entirely forgotten about.  It was silent – he’d turned the audio off before posting it – but it was a short loop of Miles at one of their double dates with Winston and Zoë, at a table in Lola's Cantina, laughing at something.  Tristan couldn't remember what it was that had made him react that way, but he supposed it didn't matter.  He was glad he'd caught it.

Seeing Miles happy, truly happy, seemed to release a feeling of calm in Tristan.  The knowledge that he was himself and he wasn't troubled by his father's manipulation anymore made him sure that what they had was finally real.  Miles had been opening up to Tristan, had been learning to express what he was thinking.  Over the past few months they'd spent hours just talking, about their childhoods, their deepest fears, regrets, hopes, dreams.  Of course, they'd had their fair share of less-than-appropriate hours together too, but Tristan knew that Miles had been spending time with him because he liked _Tristan_ , not just the natural intoxication he got from intimacy.

Tristan's eyes skimmed over his clothes, a black band t-shirt covered in a thin blue unzipped jacket.  He thought back to the first time he saw Miles in that jacket, which was coincidentally also the first time Miles had kissed him, the first time he had worn his boyfriend’s clothes… but it wasn’t all firsts.  It was the second time Miles had really opened up to him.  It was their second kiss, the way Miles tells it.  The second time Tristan felt a spark between them, and this time he was right.

He remembered Miles telling him how insecure he had been about his teeth before he had them realigned with braces just after the summer they met.  He had seen campaign photos, family photos, photos of him with Maya, in which Miles had outright refused to smile because of the braces.  Looking at him now, they were positioned a little neater, but Tristan had loved his smile just as much back when his canines had been far from perfect.

Then he noticed the gap in his left eyebrow, that little scar he'd often wondered the story behind.  He wanted to know everything about Miles.  He wanted to know him inside and out, his every imperfection, and not to change him.  He was gorgeous, gap and all, perfect just the way he was, smiling like that, placing his arm on the table in front of him.  Tristan imagined being across from him at that table, as he had been several times, talking and laughing and falling more in love with every second that passed.

Watching the frames over and over with a slight smile, Tristan felt a surge of desire for the brunet.  'I love you,' he whispered.  He'd said it before – in fact, Miles had said the words first – but he still felt the need to say them despite no prospect of a response.

Then there were his arms, the ones he'd use to hug Tristan tight when things were going wrong, to hold him close after intimate nights, to carry him upstairs when he'd fallen asleep on the couch – though he’d always wake up and demand to be put down.  Miles liked to pretend he didn't work out, but Tristan knew someday they'd be competing in the gym, flirting and complimenting the other’s toned bodies and maybe sharing hot showers… 

But Miles' body wasn't Tristan's all-time favourite thing about him – that would have to be his unconditional compassion for his friends and family.  Still, this evening he was undeniably craving for Miles to be physically next to him.  He wanted to be able to express how he felt about his boyfriend, return all the happiness he'd been given since they’d met.

He wanted to kiss him, deep and slow, to hold his body firm against his own, to caress his neck and his hips and pull him as close as possible.  He wanted to touch Miles and be touched by him.

He wanted to run his thumb across his cheekbone and hear him hum contentedly as he does, maybe even hear those three words again, maybe be kissed back the same way.

He wanted to sleep beside his boyfriend, wrapped in his protective arms, the way they always did after…

Tristan slid his hand down his bare torso, unsure, deliberating, wondering if he would ever be ashamed of this, of missing his boyfriend this much, but he was so far away and all he could think about was the way their bodies felt pressed together, warm and tangible, proof that Miles wanted _him,_ all of him, not just someone to fuck but someone to get close to, and stay the night.  And the next day.   He'd said it himself, he wasn't going anywhere; but he wasn't _here_ here, so maybe he could just –

Hand pausing halfway down his stomach, he thought, ‘No.  I couldn't.  If he ever found out I'd never live it down.’  He turned off the screen and set his phone on the nightstand, shaking his head as if to dispel the notion, the _whim_ of jerking off to what was essentially a picture of his boyfriend… but upon accepting his inability to banish the thought, he began to justify himself.

‘How would he find out?  And what would it really matter?  He wouldn’t give me shit if I asked him not to.  And he probably does it too anyway…’ he bit his lip.  ‘Besides, there’s nothing wrong with it.’

And there wasn’t.  No one in his life had ever told him masturbation was wrong, or that he shouldn’t do it.  Quite the contrary; Owen’s male friends had openly talked about their habits for as long as Tristan could remember, though when they saw that Tristan was around they’d shut up.  He wondered if it was because he was too young, or because they knew he was gay.  Or some other reason, maybe.

Miles had never talked to him about it, but Tristan assumed it was routine for him like most other guys.  Tristan himself had never gotten much out of the act, but after wondering if Miles ever thought of him while getting off, and considering how hard he already was and the fact that he couldn’t get the idea out of his mind, he finally let his hand wander down, first hesitant then a little more sure.

Touching himself felt nice.  Obviously.  His thin hand knew what to do, gently pulling up and down the length, dragging his thumb over the slit as he knew he liked when Miles did it.  Thinking of Miles, then imagining it were Miles’ hand stroking him, then thinking of Miles imagining the hand on his _own_ cock was Tristan’s, possibly at the same time that Tristan was jerking off so was Miles, possibly right that second he was alone and moaning the way Tristan loved so much, possibly they were both thinking of each other as they made do with almost-adequate substitutes…

The friction was starting to get uncomfortable, unaccustomed as he was to prolonged dry play, so he reached over to open the drawer with his free hand to grab lube.  He kept it for the rare occasions when he and Miles could have sex at Tristan’s house, so conveniently it was pretty much full.

After snapping open the lid and lubing up his cock it felt so much better, so much more like _Miles,_ that after discarding the bottle his free hand moved to caress his thigh just like Miles did every time they got close – or more accurately, all the time regardless of the situation – since he’d found out it drove Tristan wild.

His hips lifted just the slightest amount at the touch.  At his _own_ touch.  He knew if it had been Miles his heart would be racing a lot faster.  He’d be trying to suppress his urgent desire for more, not wanting to ask for it, because he’s too proud, but his hips would be betraying him, his hands would be tugging on Miles’ hair or on his waist, because it felt indescribably fantastic and now there was precome joining the lube on his hand and his other hand was digging into the skin of his waist after a momentary grip at his balls oh _fuck_ why didn’t he do this more often all he had to do was think about Miles and he could get exactly the touch he wanted before he even knew he wanted it

But it was getting harder to imagine Miles the closer he got; he was distracted, he was close, so he grabbed his phone again and turned on the screen and there was his smile and it was so easy to imagine that smile being smiled at him during sex because it was right in front of him, oh god the sweet little eyebrow gap and his teeth and his genuine happiness, that felt just as good as the touch.

He tensed his hand and let out a small moan because fuck this boy was _his_ and his balls tightened and he felt it buzzing through his body, it was coming, _he_ was coming, and he was gasping but quietly, and he released, not feeling the tension in his muscles, just the white hot pleasure, well worth every ounce of effort.

Coming down wasn’t as mortifying as he’d expected.  He was too delighted at having found out about this newly enjoyable activity to let himself be embarrassed. He was just smiling, catching his breath, still watching the loop, still thinking about how it felt to be in love and to _know_ Miles was in love too.  Next time, he’d take it much slower.  This was an experience to savour.


End file.
